


Congratulations, Your Memory is Happy to Burn You!

by Mistakes_and_Experiments



Series: Folded Between Disbelief and Damnation is Your Disused Hope [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: AU, Dead Characters, Dead People, Enough Blame to Go Around, Friendship, Gen, Master and Padawan, Meta, Post-Series, Spiritual, Terminus: The Terminal at the End of Lives, You can certainly be BFFs with the people you’ve killed (or your killer), dead people talking to each other, friendship transcending death and enemy lines, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 18:56:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2743514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistakes_and_Experiments/pseuds/Mistakes_and_Experiments
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Which The Story is Written Since I Wish to Throw Known Villains Into Introspection and Passable Post-Mortem Therapy via Deus Ex Machina Because I was Getting Antsy About Their Issues. If This Does Not Warn You That It’s Definitely AU, Then Nothing Will.</p><p>The stage is set for dead dark lords dreaming of distant pasts.</p><p>Part Two: Anakin Skywalker</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anakin

**Author's Note:**

> This work can stand alone from the rest of the series.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Anakin Angsts a Lot (and Does Not Even Pretend Otherwise)

### Anakin

Anakin Skywalker was sitting on an unused bench at a spaceport, waiting for a transport ship that will never arrive.

He did wonder for about two seconds how he knew his ship would never arrive, and muse why that knowledge did not concern him more—shouldn’t he book another one, then? Somehow, it didn’t feel important, not more so than his lethargy, as the masses of people around him hurried to their destination and paying him no mind. In a way, their ignorance and his apparent anonimity right now was strangely comforting. It wasn’t often that he had time to himself. It had felt as if everyone was always dragging the Hero with No Fear in five directions at once, _all the time_. He had the suspicion that running himself ragged was a factor in how he finally cracked. For now, it didn’t seem like such a bad idea to… sit here for a while. Yes, that’s it. Once he’d regained enough energy, he’d get up and go back to Coruscant.

The planes of transparisteel in front of him showcased all the crafts docking below—and what a selection it was! From the dinkiest outer-rim shuttle to the streamlined Coruscanti pleasure yachts and the better-armoured and well-escorted diplomatic transports seem to be represented here. Considering the classiness of this port, he was definitely on some important world. For some reason, its precise name continues to elude him right now. He shrugged. Well, it wasn’t as if it was particularly important to know, was it? He wasn’t in any danger, and considering how relaxed he felt, he was definitely not on any deadline to go anywhere just yet. He was certainly never in a hurry to report to the Jedi Council.

This was when he noticed the holocron in front of him.

He had half expected to see some sort of inner-rim gossip channel to be playing. If he was lucky it would be showing sport, and maybe even podracing. Of course, his luck rarely held all that far, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t wish it. Of course, maybe he should’ve learned his lesson better this time about how his luck had _never_ gone the way he wanted it to as much as run straight in the other direction.

The holocron was playing scenes from his life.

How did he know that? Of course he knew that! He was there when it all happened! Right now it was on the Boonta Eve race, and had he really been that _insane_ while driving? He cleared his throat, trying to lose the tightness in it. Adrenaline spiked in his body as he remembered it like yesterday—he could even recall the sensations _now_ and for some reasons they felt hyper-real. He noticed the really-worrying vibrations from the chasis when he was pulling certain moves that he knew now to be early signs of the metal’s strain and he had the scariest vision of the starboard side splitting in half if just a fraction of a G more force was exerted on it. And why was there that particular edge to the engine’s whine? _What was that boy_ _thinking_? It was not that amusing to realise that he _had_ been that boy, just maddening, though he thought that Obi-Wan would definitely enjoy a good laugh at his expense if he knew. Obi-Wan’s complete insistence on never allowing Anakin to drive him on _anything_ if he could help it suddenly acquired new meaning. He probably owed the man a well-earned, belated apology.

 _Well, not as much an apology you owed for killing him_ , a thought popped up in his head.

That killed his mood instantly. He did, didn’t he? He had killed his mentor and best friend, the closest thing he had to a father figure in his life… and for what reason? A pack of lies. One that he swallowed without any doubts, no questions asked. _Well_ , he thought, _that’s the Dark Side for you_. If one wasn’t careful enough to defend against its intrusion, it can easily corrupt a person’s thoughts and reasoning well to the point where the person wouldn’t have recognised it anymore if they were sane. He snorted. He couldn’t believe he could actually remember one of Obi-Wan’s lectures right now, out of all times.

But then again, what better time than now? What better time than when he had firsthand experience about just how insidious the Dark Side’s corruption was and how far one could fall?

He sighed and pressed the heel of his hands to his eyes, rubbing the heaviness there away before he stopped.

He… killed Obi-Wan, didn’t he? Yes, yes he did. The same way he had cut off his son’s right arm and tortured his daughter for information (what sort of father did that make him? But no, he wasn’t going to go down that line of thought before he meditated. Not yet). He had to come to terms with that sometime soon, anyway, especially if he was ever going to see Padmé again. He owed her some sort of explanation, at least if she asked him for it. He owed her a lot more than that, but that would be a good place to start.

He blinked, his soul crying with sheer joy and _relief_ at one thought. _Padmé_!

She would be here, wouldn’t she? He stared down on _both_ natural arms and hands he seemed to have in complete possession right now and remembered the constricting existence of being Darth Vader. He was quite certain Darth Vader was permanently dead. The way the holocron in front of him was now playing back his dying death throes made him cringe, the phantom pain throbbing with mutual sympathy in his chest made him more certain of it. He really didn’t want to remember that. Even if his son’s continued trust and unconditional love certainly warmed him from the inside, the dying part wasn’t great at all.

Yes, apparently he’s pretty dead. Finding his also-dead wife shouldn’t be a problem in that case, right?

He stood up and walked away, definitely _not_ watching the mistakes of his life player in a loop. It was worse than having to see all those gossip channels. Definitely worse than intergalactic soap opera.

He walked several terminals away, gone up and down some levels in his random wanderings and even accidentally walked out into the grand stables filled with several kinds of beasts of burden (and _why_ does a space port need a stable? Wait, no, he’s not even going to try to answer that). He had walked past an inner-city subway commuter hub, filled with various species he was familiar with, and even more that he _didn’t_ that he almost couldn’t believe it. He was pretty certain he knew by sight all the major species of the galaxy. He failed to understand the logic in the place’s construction after coming out into carriage central, with people coming and going on vehicles _pulled by beasts_. After that, he stumbled a bit more (though for some reason he never crashed into anyone. Ever. It was weird), before giving up on his efforts and finally admitted to himself that he was completely lost.

 _Some hero of the galaxy you are_ , another voice in his head snarked. It was annoying because it sounded exactly like a teenage him.

 _It’s not_ my _fault that this place had no sign on it anywhere!_ He thought.

 _Why should this place have signs placed on it_ anywhere _? Everyone already knew where they were going. You don’t think this is actually a physical place, do you?_

There was a challenge to that tone, and Anakin gritted his teeth. Stars above, did he sound that _bratty_ when he was a teenager? For a moment he felt like strangling a younger version of him, paradoxes be damned, before he closed his eyes and collected all his frustrations with the ease of long practice. _Release it to the Force_ , he murmurred to himself. Yeah, that was what he needed to do. After some careful breathing and channeling of excess emotions, he did feel calmer.

It didn’t stop him from wondering why his alter-ego, internal guide, instinct or subconscious or _whatever_ just _had_ to sound like his teenage self. Even the company ofa younger and uptight Obi-Wan had to be better than this.

 _Or maybe this was Obi-Wan’s payback for making him suffer through_ your _teenage years_ , a thought surfaced.

He sighed. Well, he did owe old master a lot. Maybe the voice was one of those things he just had to get used to in this strange not-place. He gave up wandering and sat down on a bench.

He was back on _his_ first bench, in front of the view to the parked spaceships, along with the holocron that was showing him the scene where he was killing an incompetent Imperial officer or another. He was here, supposedly waiting for the ship that he knew well wasn’t coming.

“Oh for krethin’s sakes, come _on_!” He cursed a bit more in Huttese. “Why am I stuck here? What am I supposed to do, here?”

The scene in front of him changed into his duel with Obi-Wan in Mustafar, and Anakin didn’t even bother to stop himself from wincing as he saw how he had attacked Padmé. His thoughts were running wild now, swinging back and forth between frustration and despair. How much of an idiot was he, then? How could he even think that she’d betray him? What would’ve happened if Obi-Wan hadn’t gone along with her just then? And of course his personal questions reverted several times to the age-old classic he’d heard himself say several times already, both in his life and this not-exactly-afterlife.

_What in the Force was I thinking?_

The scene in front of him paused, oddly on the expression that Obi-Wan had between denial and despair, as if he couldn’t quite believe that the knight he had raised from padawan was the monster in front of him. Anakin felt his chest tighten at that. If he could spare Obi-Wan and Padmé from the pain of that particular encounter, he would. His friend and his love deserved better than that.

A stray thought blossomed into an idea. Maybe it could be a step to understanding what had happened, if he tried to find out about how he fell? Was there actually a way that it could have been avoided? What _was_ he thinking, right then, anyway? How did he begin to feel that he was facing everything alone and that everyone was against him instead of being concerned for him? How did he end up thinking that only _Palpatine_ was on his side?

He took a deep breath and watch as the scene in front of him changed into Tattooine again, to his encounter with Qui-Gon for the first time. He saw the wide-eyed wonder that his child-self had for these interesting visitors. He saw the blossoming beginnings of his love for Padmé. He had been so pure, then, so… _naïve_ , he thought. Yet it was wistfulness that he felt now seeing his childish enthusiasm, not annoyance.

_To be that young again…_

To be that young and untouched by the Dark Side. To be young and without a trail of bodies behind him, many of them not even deserving of their deaths. There’s not a lot that he wouldn’t give for that. He took another deep, steadying breath as he collected his thoughts together. If he was still here instead of being with Padmé, or being able to see Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon again, perhaps it was because there was still something he needed to do. _There are no coincidences; there is only the Force_.

 _Fine_ , he thought with a resigned acceptance. It wasn’t as annoying as he half thought it would be. _Meditation it is, then_.

Maybe _then_ he could begin sorting out what was going on and decide on what he needed to do after that. He tried to relax himself and find his center, to be aware of his own presence within his body and ignore the distracting sights and sounds around him. They were not what he needed to be concerned about now. What he wanted to feel was the Force. It would take him a while to get there because he couldn’t help but fidget occasionally and impatience usually got the better of him several times. Yet Anakin was nothing if not stubborn. He was also certain that he had all the time in the world to attempt this, and the ease he felt at that realisation actually helped him manage it faster.

The moment he found his centre and internal peace, the whole place exploded in an array of light in his inner sight and he gaped. It was unlike any other place he had been in; even the Jedi temple itself was never this _bright_. The Masters had always glowed with a stellar brilliance fitting to their carefully honed years, and the other Jedi shone with their respective inner light. Between each soul were many connections, a web forged over a lifetime of relationships. Anakin couldn’t help his chuckle the first time he saw that. Apparently, it was impossible for any person to _not_ have any relationship, regardless of whatever the Jedi Order thought about it being the precursor to attachment—the realisation had made him bolder in his decision to marry Padmé back then.

What he was seeing now wasn’t like that. He was awash with light. Even what seemed like physical objects here glowed, _thrummed_ with the Force. Something as mundane as the bench he was sitting on was a swirl of gentle blue light bracing his own radiance. The floor was an intricate weave of similar light-strands while the transparisteel in front of him was made of thinner and more delicate ones. Instead of seeing himself as one star in space among many, he felt more like one in the warm embrace of a nebula, ensconced in such close proximity to thousands and more of others—he found that the people hurrying all around him in such varied shapes, species and forms _are_ people, with their own light, as their own stars. Everyone was brighter than he had ever seen anyone alive, though perhaps existing as pure beings of energy tend to do that—he had guessed, even if not quite believed until now, that they were souls like him.

Now he felt less than a star within a galactic sector and more of a young one gently held in the stellar cradle, the birthplace of stars.

His throat was dry and his eyes were blurry and he couldn’t care less. It was beautiful, and he felt more than lucky to be here and be able to see it.

_Welcome, Anakin Skywalker. You have been thinking, haven’t you?_

He turned around to try to find the new voice. He was sure he had never heard of it before—he would’ve remembered a woman so calm and wise. Yet at the same time, there was something strangely familiar about her, even right now when he was meditating so deeply that he could only see her as pure blinding light, immense in size. The shifting in the Force that he could feel to have radiated from her belied her age and power.

That was when he realised that she was the center of the nebula. He saw that her gentle touch reached far and wide, to all the stars and lights around him, including himself.

It was when he realised that she was not embedded within the Force like everyone else.

She _is_ the Force.

_Uh, yeah?_

He groaned internally. _Right_. _Greatest introduction ever, to one of the Powers of the world, Skywalker_.

He thought he caught a general feeling of amusement from her and good will, so he figured out that he couldn’t have nerfed everything up completely yet. She was still listening, he could feel that. She was also still oddly pleased by his presence, and he really didn’t know what to make of it. It wasn’t as if he achieved anything of note in his life, did he? If anything, he was responsible for turning it into a steaming pile of bantha poodoo and—he cut himself off at that point, just in case she could read his thoughts easily. There was no way he would be caught cursing at the Force if he could help it.

_If I may ask… why am I here, Mast—err, Mistress?_

_Have you figured it out, yet?_

_Damn, a question for a question._ It made him feel as if he was still Obi-Wan’s padawan again—that man certainly seems to quietly enjoy confusing him. On the other hand, he couldn’t argue that he was one of the few people that ever got Anakin to actually think over things, even if he rarely sat down to do so, so maybe his methods had some merit. Anakin decided to do just that and focus on his issue.

Why did he sit down to meditate before this? He was wondering why he was back to that infernal bench and watching the holocron of his life, whose scenes kept changing to follow every action recollection of his memories. What did he get from it? He got more questions than answers, like the classic ‘ _What in the world was I thinking?_ ’ as he watched and examined scenes and parts. He felt like he was back at the Temple again, forced to read or observe, to learn…

His eyes widened. That was it, wasn’t it?

_To learn. I’m here to learn, aren’t I?_

A hum of approval sung softly through the fabric of the Force. It was so soothing that he couldn’t help but smile at it.

 _Good. Continue on this path you have set yourself on, Anakin Skywalker, and perhaps you will be ready when the opportunity comes_.

He could feel the nebula, the field of stars receding from him and felt the loss sink its cold teeth into him, but he let it go. He had an answer, didn’t he? Now he knew what to do too—a plan was forming now. It wasn’t bad as things go. He’d been on missions worse than this. Palpatine had _definitely_ sent him on missions worse than this, in which the only way he could finish it was by cutting a bloody swath across a planet or two, or maybe a whole system, or…

He closed his eyes and willed the memories away. One day, he might drown in his regrets once he ran out of things to do, but today was not going to be that day.

When he opened his eyes, he could see the spaceport beyond the transparisteel and their assortment of spacecrafts parked there, but his attention wasn’t on it anymore. His eyes were back to the holocron of his life. It was playing the scene in Mustafar again and he steeled himself. He sighed. He couldn’t avoid it forever.

Surprisingly, the scenes rolled back and started back from his childhood, and Anakin let out the breath he didn’t realise he had been holding.

 _Alright, from the beginning it is, then_ , he thought, as his resolve strengthened.He could do this.

‘-


	2. Obi-Wan Kenobi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Stage Left: One Mostly Dead Jedi Master

### Obi-Wan

Anakin swung his lightsaber through the holocron. The sparks and fizzes he gained from it were oddly gratifying.

He was only _experimenting_ , really. He was just curious if he could damage anything around here. It did give a satisfying hiss of broken circuitry. He sighed. For some reason the holocron was playing sequentially through his padawan years, but faithfully focusing on his interaction with Palpatine, skimming through the other parts quickly. He tried to hold back his annoyance—he did, _honest_ —but after a while the repeated playback of the Sith lord’s concerned and caring grandfatherly guise only gave him the urge to throttle something. (It didn’t help that he was sure could even smell the distinctive old wood scent and leather of the Chancellor office and it got on his nerves). He had had to channel his anger to the Force repeatedly and hoped the holocron could choose a different scene to work with— _anywhere_ , he thought, _even Mustafar!_ —but it was no use.

Thus in a fit of inspired desperation, he tried a novel approach to problem-solving. The still-steaming holocron was proof of that.

_Yeah_ , that annoying younger voice inside his head muttered, _keep telling yourself that. Maybe you’d even believe you weren’t epically sulking._

He _wasn’t_. He was just bored. Of course, he was also ignoring the disbelief he could feel from his inner whiner—and when did he get a pain-in-the-neck sort of conscience, anyway? Wasn’t consciences supposed to be nice and well-balanced? Kindly advising instead of passive-aggressive?

“Whatever did the poor machine do to you, Anakin?”

“Master!” Anakin shouted. He caught Obi-Wan in a bear hug as the other Jedi laughed and patted his back. If his voice was a little strained at the end because of Anakin’s strength, he said nothing.

Anakin would’ve been embarrassed if he’d noticed how easily he fell into his old habit instead of just calling his old master by name, something he had said was fine after he became a knight of his own. Thankfully for Anakin, he was too carried away to notice.

“How did you get here?” He finally asked.

“I was directed here,” Obi-Wan replied, as if it explained everything. He stared at his old master in disbelief but only received an amused look for his troubles.

Anakin’s furrowed his brows for a moment, before he realised that he wasn’t going to get any answer that Obi-Wan hadn’t been planning to part with. He certainly wasn’t going to stampede Obi-Wan for answers with the delicacy of a nerf herd. _Surely_ he was beyond those years now. His master was giving pointed glances at the holocron he had cut through, and his former padawan. Anakin cringed, hoping he didn’t have to explain it. Once he pulled his lightsaber out, the damage seems to have undone itself smoothly, with time itself casually flowing backwards. If he wasn’t so focused on Obi-Wan, he would’ve stared.

“No harm done, Master,” Anakin said coolly, managing the fine art of looking as if everything had gone exactly as planned. It always helped him looked blasé when the reporters caught him after whatever mess he had just managed to extricate them from; whether it was explosions or crash landings didn’t matter. It was probably what earned him the title of Hero-with-No-Fear.

Unfortunately for him, Obi-Wan was well-versed with all his game faces. Must be an unfortunate side effect of actually raising him through the terrible teens.

“Of course Anakin. Whatever you say.” His old master was still _smiling_ , all ears and kind understanding. It was sort-of unnerving, to be honest.

“The holocron was glitchy,” he pointed out. Obi-Wan was still amiable.

“Of course it was.”

“It wouldn’t change scenes at all.”

Obi-Wan nodded sagely. “It certainly needed to be fixed, if that’s the case.”

He nodded, feeling strangely relieved at that, “Well, I did try to do something.”

“And that something happened to be a live saber to the system.”

“Yeess—nnno.”

Obi-Wan raised an inquiring eyebrow. Anakin caught himself a little too late, and shut his mouth immediately in silent mortification. He couldn’t believe he still fell for that! After all these years! Obi-Wan was _still_ watching him with that annoying serenity particular to the ginger-haired man, but he managed to hang on for barely another second.

Then he laughed himself off his backside. Anakin rolled his eyes, slipping his hands into the sleeves of his knight robes.

“Sure, laugh it off, Master. That was _real_ mature of you, O great _Negotiator_.”

Obi-Wan was still chuckling when he replied. “Hey, you can’t deny that it was funny.”

“I thought Jedi Masters are supposed to be collected and dignified?”

“When you’re old enough to know what’s important in life, you’ll realise that dignity can go take a hike for all you cared.” Obi-Wan said, more relaxed than Anakin had ever seen him. _When he was alive that is_. He shut down that line of thought before he went too far. Fortunately, Obi-Wan didn’t seem to notice at all.

“It’s much better to have not stuck to pride and still have one’s companions, than it is to cling unnecessarily to it and stand alone. You were always family, Anakin. I wished I’d said that sooner.” Obi-Wan finished.

Anakin stared, not quite sure what to say, even as he caught himself opening his mouth and then closing it again at least twice. What happened to Mr. Perfect Jedi, I-have-no-attachments Obi-Wan? The mood had started as a jaunt in Casual Lane taken a turn to Awkward Alley and ran screaming into Minefield of Personal Issues. Obi-Wan seemed to be in a similarly shell-shocked state as Anakin because he had an apologetic look on his face.

“Anakin, I’m sorry—” he started, but the taller Jedi was having none of it.

“No, no, no. _I’m_ sorry. I… I don’t know where to begin—and what are you even apologising for? I don’t see you turning into a krethin’ _Sith Lord_.” Anakin’s tone had started out somewhere around contrite and ended up in high near incredulous.

Obi-Wan let out a dry laugh. “We’re quite a sorry pair, aren’t we?”

“Not as sorry as when we accidentally got wasted after stumbling upon that open bar night on—”

“That night _does not exist_.” Obi-Wan said firmly. Anakin chuckled. He was always glad his skin wasn’t as light as his former Master’s—Obi-Wan might’ve had better control than he did over emotions, but once something got through, it _got through_.

Anakin grinned. “Ah, yes. The good old days—”

“Which only lasted as long as you didn’t blow anything up. Or vomited over an ambassador. Or ran away from getting ticketed again, with the end result of either burning up another speeder or—”

“ _Fine_. I know you miss me, Master. Otherwise you wouldn’t have remembered all of that after all these years.” _And with such embarrassing detail_ , Anakin didn’t add out loud. His master would’ve taken that as a compliment. Obi-Wan did smile at that, fondly and with so much warmth that Anakin had to look away. It was still hard for him to accept the affection he could feel through their training bond. The man couldn’t possibly still love him after Anakin successfully killed him, did he? Patricide or fratricide was definitely _not_ a good expression of filial piety.

The silence was only marginally more comfortable than the one before.

“I shouldn’t have left you on Mustafar.” Obi-Wan said. Anakin winced. It seems like his old master was keen on beating that particular dead bantha for now.

“I went full Dark Side,” Anakin said flatly. He cursed himself when heard the slight, very slight resentment he still felt over it in his voice (spending more than half his life with a breathing aparatus is _not_ his idea of fun). With the way his luck had always gone, of _course_ Obi-Wan had to _still_ be able to pick up on that as his expression turned into one of grim determination.

“At the very least I shouldn’t have let you suffer needlessly and… ended things.” Obi-Wan said.

Well, Anakin couldn’t very well argue with that. His memories of being Vader could still turn his thoughts darker and inward and it dragged him down even now. His early death would also have aided the galaxy right there and then, depriving Palpatine of his right-hand man. He didn’t want Obi-Wan to dwell on unnecessary guilt about it, though. _So… distractions…_

“I owe you a larger apology for killing you,” Anakin blurted out. “So. Uh. _Sorry_.”

A pause.

“And I shouldn’t have killed everyone else,” he said quickly, still not looking at Obi-Wan. _Skywalker, that’s still not a krethin’ apology_ , he snapped at himself. _When trying to atone for a massacre, you shouldn’t sound like you’re making an excuse after being caught escaping from the Temple for the twentieth time and was trying to avoid ‘fresher cleaning duties_.

He sighed. He hated it when he was right. “I’m sorry. I just… sorry.”

Was he cringing right now? If he wasn’t, he was certain that he should. Force, he was so bad at this it was embarassing. It should be recorded for posterity to be gawked at by young Initiates. _This, younglings, is the perfect example of How to Not Apologise, brought to you by the tactless Hero with No Fear_. Anakin could even imagine the most unyielding teachers at the Temple saying that. Darth Vader had never had to apologise for anything—he only needed to glare and take what he wanted. Sometimes he only needed to _breathe_ slowly and he’d be given what he wanted. He took a deep breath.

“I know my words would never be enough, and they’d never undo what I’ve done. But for what it’s worth, I _am_ sorry—”

“Anakin.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t see through Palpatine’s manipulations. I’m sorry I couldn’t stop myself in time. I’m sorry I didn’t realise everything until it’s almost too late and—”

“ _Anakin!_ ” Obi-Wan shook his former apprentice hard, snapping him out of his self-flagellation. Obi-Wan was shaking his head.

“It’s okay. It’s not completely your fault either. You were but a padawan when Palpatine offered you his friendship while I’m your _Master_. I’m the one with more experience. If anybody should’ve seen through _something_ , it should be _me_ , not you. You can’t shoulder the blame completely for that.”

“I still shouldn’t have gone Sith and thought that you and Padmé would betray me,” he said.

“Now I admit that _that_ is your responsibility,” Obi-Wan said glibly. “Whatever did we do to earn that?”

“Can I throw that one back to Palpatine?” Anakin said, only in half-jest.

Obi-Wan managed a small smile at that. “I suppose he has to bear his partial share too. Still, never mind that. I still have all eternity to hear you grovel. Now, though, I’m sure we have other issues that are more prudent to pay attention to.”

The two Jedi sat on the bench, the holocron in front of them going through various scenes and impressions from Anakin’s childhood after he was accepted by the Order. This time, the focus wasn’t completely on Palpatine. There was a good deal of Obi-Wan there, as well as everyone else in the Jedi Temple. To Anakin’s surprise, it was Obi-Wan who groaned first. The trigger was a scene that Anakin would’ve thought completely mundane. It was just the younger Anakin desperately trying to study and catch up with everyone else, all while bearing the burden of being the possible Chosen One and the almost-complete isolation he felt from other Initiates near his age.

It was no surprise that Anakin was bewildered.

“What?” he asked.

“I wasn’t paying attention.” Obi-Wan said.

Anakin didn’t understand how that was supposed to be an answer as he glanced several times at the holocron, into the pouting face of a young Anakin. “Really? I thought _I_ wasn’t paying attention. I failed at meditation so hard back then. Though it’s not as if I could be proud of my meditation skills right now either.”

Obi-Wan finally took his gaze away from the screen and clarified.

“I remembered this time. I was barely at the Temple at all for three weeks a month. I had been chaining too many missions that I didn’t pay attention to your progress. You had been struggling in your classes—I would’ve noticed it if I actually paid better attention to you, but I _didn’t_. If I had, we might be able to diffuse the situation before you blew up at lightsaber sparring.”

Both Jedi winced when the aforementioned events was brought up by the holocron. The fallout to that one had been messy as Obi-Wan was forced to apologise to the padawan Anakin had harmed as well as the padawan’s master—he had to resign himself to being lectured at for half an hour. A young Anakin had been prickly because he felt alone and unsupported, while Obi-Wan was overwhelmed from how a few teachers as well as other Jedi were putting him on the spot for being Anakin’s minder. Added on top of that was how he was still reeling from the loss of Qui-Gon. That had been a bad time for both of them; not that either realised how similar their situations were then. It was ironic because it would certainly be easier for both if they knew that at the very least they could rely on each other.

“I’ve failed you even then,” Obi-Wan murmured, almost too soft to catch. “I’m rather certain that there are other examples like this spread throughout your years as a padawan.”

Anakin casually punched Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“You didn’t fail anyone,” Anakin defended. “Life just chews people up and spits them out sometimes. It doesn’t matter if they’re ordinary people or Jedi. It just happens.”

Obi-Wan stared at him carefully. “I’ll take that to heart if you promise to listen to your own advice.”

“What?”

“Life happens. You turned into a Sith Lord and gone on a rampage across the galaxy. Fine. But you’ve also gotten back out from it and ended the creature at the head of the galaxy-wide rampage,” Obi-Wan said.

“It doesn’t negate my mistakes and all the people who died because of that,” Anakin retorted. It was nice to know that Obi-Wan still had his back after all this time, really, but could his old master just realise that Anakin _was_ a monster and come to terms with that? He couldn’t believe he’d be of the same opinion as his rival, but Ferrus Olin was right—Obi-Wan _was_ blinded by his care for Anakin.

Not that he’d ever admit it out loud to Ferrus. Not alive and not even dead.

“I didn’t say it did,” Obi-Wan said, used to his former padawan’s stubbornness. “But you could stop fixating on your blame and focus on what you can learn from it. It would help you move on to how you could fix your mistakes.”

“If I don’t remember my mistakes, I would be too prone to repeat them,” Anakin said.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and slowly closed his eyes. If he was younger, he would’ve been staring heavenward with an unmistakable tension in his jaw.

“I think what I’m trying to say is this: don’t let yourself be chained to the past and keep your sights on the future,” Obi-Wan started. It was almost guaranteed to be the beginning of another long lecture that Anakin could feel his eyes starting to glaze a little.

“What?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, an all-too-knowing look in his eyes.

“Less brooding and more learning, Anakin.”

For all his complaints about Obi-Wan’s interference and too bright perspective of him, Anakin had never realised until now how calming the presence of someone who believed in you could be. As Obi-Wan enlightened him on his perspective on how some of the events went. Anakin was humbled by the amount of effort the older Jedi actually put in taking care of him, his reserve and efforts to ensure visible non-attachment notwithstanding. When he pointed out that he never knew how hard Obi-Wan actually worked at being the perfect Jedi. Obi-Wan countered that he really wasn’t that proud of his early days as a somewhat stiff and stuck-up young Knight.

Anakin didn’t understand how Obi-Wan had lived with his bratty self, but from the way his old master’s smile was coloured with the glow of nostalgia, it seemed that he didn’t even consider it as a problem.

“I still don’t know how you put up with me,” Anakin said, after a long lull in the conversation.

That earned him a chuckle from Obi-Wan. “You’d understand when you have kids.”

There was a slight pain from the thought of _his_ kids, but it wasn’t as bad as when he was Vader anymore. They were both still half caught up with watching what was his tenth escape from the Temple, one where Anakin had a rather nasty racing accident. It wasn’t a surprise that Obi-Wan was a bit distracted, as he hadn’t really known how often his padawan had slipped out and how bad his adventures could get.

He wished, not for the first time, if there was any way for him to meet Luke and Leia again, and make up for all that had happened.

‘-


End file.
